


As the Rains Come

by Starlithorizon



Series: Alchemy and Guitar Ties [28]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, not as fluffy as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 11:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starlithorizon/pseuds/Starlithorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin and Arthur get into a fight after a rough couple of days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As the Rains Come

**Author's Note:**

> This is another of mattsloved1's prompts: "The boys enjoy the beauty of a rainbow after a downpour."  
> Well, I made the storm a bit metaphorical. No relationship is completely perfect, and that includes the boys'. I dunno, I just felt like making them fight a little, I'm sorry. Either way, sometimes you just have a really bad day and have to get into a fight, and that's probably their style more than anything.  
> The title is from "After the Storm" by Mumford & Sons.

It had been a rough couple of days for both of them, to be honest, and both sets of nerves were frayed. Take that, and add in the stress of money and physical weariness and a pair of shoes that you _keep_ tripping over and Douflas's snide remarks and the passengers' meanness—

Really, it had been inevitable.

The boys had been married just over a year when they took a hen party to Paris. The flight there was short, but that hadn't mattered one whit. The ladies all wore sharp, clicky heels and had personalities to match. They wore too much perfume, which served to give Arthur a headache. That would have been all right, though, had they not been so vicious to him. They all thought that, just because he spoke in the most absurdly dignified manner he could manage and was admittedly not the sharpest tool in the shed, that he was an idiot. And a deaf one at that. He heard the terrible things they said about him, and they often volleyed cruel little barbs his way through the whole flight.

As it was a fairly short flight, neither pilot required tea or coffee, so he couldn't really duck into the flight deck to get away from the women. Not that he'd have been able to, anyway, because they never stopped pressing the stupid service bell.

In the pointy end, Martin had learned nothing and taken several bets with Douglas anyway. Douglas was a gracious loser, but he was often a sore loser, and this was one of those days. During the flight, Martin had been teased for his bad luck, his hat, his height, and his inability to keep from stammering and blushing in front of women.

"For heaven's sake, Martin," he said. "You're married and gay! You'd think you'd be able to look one of them in the eye! It's not as though you're trying to pick anyone up or anything."

While Martin was perfectly fine with his sexuality, Arthur-based as it was, he fairly resented Douglas for being so flippant about the whole thing. Truth be told, though, Martin would have just brushed it aside had Douglas not spent the last half hour making fun of him.

"Shut up, Douglas," he said sharply. The flight deck went quiet, his rebuke hanging in the air.

Wandering Paris had seemed like a great idea, but Martin stammered about their abysmal funds every time Arthur suggested getting food or souvenirs. Even with his paycheck and Arthur's paycheck and their extra jobs, Martin still worried about money. Old habits die hard, and his were no exception. So they wandered the city, feeling a vague sense of frustrated disappointment.

They slept fitfully, as the hotel was dirt cheap and thus perpetually loud, so neither was in the best mood when they woke up.

The flight back was just as awful as the flight there, if not worse. The ladies all had nasty hangovers and were just as nasty to the poor steward.

Nearly the second they got back to Fitton, Martin dashed out to get to a moving job, barely taking a moment to give Arthur a goodbye kiss.

Arthur was bone weary and his head was pounding from all the perfume and cruelty. When he got home, he just pulled things off as he went, finally falling into bed in his vest and pants.

Martin returned to a dark house around eleven, stumbling and tripping over his husband's shoes.

" _Damn_ it, Arthur!" he shouted, finally reaching his breaking point. "How difficult is it to pick up your sodding shoes?!"

There was a violent stillness in the air before Arthur came out of the bedroom, flicking lights on as he walked through the house. He blinked blearily at Martin.

"I'm sorry," he said, not sounding apologetic. He really just sounded sleepy. "I've had a rough couple of days, I'll put them away."

As he went about cleaning, he discovered that Martin wasn't done.

"You should have done that before! Or at least moved them out of the way so they weren't in the middle of the goddamn floor."

Arthur took a deep, steadying breath before turning to Martin.

"I said I was sorry," he enunciated carefully, sleepiness replaced with steeliness. It was often easy to forget, but he was definitely Carolyn's son and would not be ripped to shreds over _shoes_.

"And you're not exactly innocent of anything either," Arthur went on, hardly blinking at the outraged surprise on his husband's face. "You didn't have to be so tight-fisted in Paris: I have money."

"I don't need you to buy me things, Arthur. I've been taking care of myself for years, I don't need charity."

Arthur groaned. "Not this again! I'm your _husband_ , Martin! If I want to buy you lunch, it's not charity. It's a date!"

The pilot sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Money's been hard for me. It's tough for me to reciprocate."

"First off: it's not my money, it's _our_ money. Second: you said Icarus was going fine."

"No I didn't, you just heard what you wanted to hear!"

It went on and on, circling and tangling and spitting rain and thunder. Their frustrations changed, gave way to a different sort altogether, and they crashed into each other. They stormed with bodies and tongues and words, barely even making it to the bedroom.

After, as they lay together a bit sweaty and spent, they apologized and admitted why they'd been having such a bad few days. They could have just simmered angrily for a while had Martin's client that night _actually_ paid him for his services, but that had been the straw to break the camel's back.

It hadn't been their first fight, and it wouldn't be their most vicious. In the many, many years in which they would be married, there would be thunderstorms and rage, but always with the underlying certainty that nothing could break them. Cliched as it was, they both knew that after every storm came a rainbow, and after that, pure blue skies.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be wandering the Arizona desert for about a week, and my iPad is no longer cool with posting. As I will be without a computer during this time, I'll be able to write, but I won't be able to post. So expect a bit of a deluge when I get back. I promise to pace myself.


End file.
